Small Talk
by The Padawan453
Summary: A/N: Spoilers for 50th! He had said Bad Wolf Girl. Bad Wolf. Ten can't believe that his future self has forgotten about her. But he hasn't. The Doctor could never forget Rose Tyler. So they sit down and have a small talk about the one they lost.


**I'm back! After a year of almost no writing, I'm back on . It feels so good! Anywho, I just watched the 50th anniversary of Doctor Who for the first time two days ago. And I simply HAD to write this. For those of you who don't know, the Doctor and Rose is my favorite OTP, and I was a bit disappointed when Rose didn't actually come back. I would have loved to see both 10's and 11's reaction to that. But all we got was a vague "Did you jut say Bad Wolf?" line. Moffat! This is a scene I wished could have been in the episode.**

 **WARNING! Major spoilers for Doctor Who up to the 50th anniversary episode - The Day of the Doctor!**

* * *

Small Talk

The great white room echoed with the infamous sound of a disappearing type 40 TARDIS as it slowly vanished. It is a great sight that few have seen. And whoever have, all regretted that they were not onboard.

The Doctor who didn't call himself the Doctor had taken off and left the two versions of his future self and Miss Clara behind. His face had been so old, but his eyes were younger. They had seen less. The eleventh Doctor strode back to the painting, the locked-down split second of time, known as "No More" or "Gallifrey Falls". He smiled sadly at the artwork. "It is a remarkable piece of art, isn't it?" he asked without tearing his eyes from within the frame. It had been a long times since he had last seen Time Lord technology asides from the TARDIS. Clara skipped over to him with tooth-smile. "It's amazing," she said. "The angle changes depending on where I stand. I can have a whole other view just by taking a step to the right!" She took a step away from the Doctor and was rewarded with new sights popping up near the far side of the frame. "What do you think?" she asked and turned to the younger Doctor. The Doctor - _her_ Doctor - had already spoken his opinion and they _were_ the same man, so Clara soon realized that it had been a silly question.

But she was surprised to see that the young Doctor wasn't paying attention. He was sitting on the bench among teacups, heavily leaning forward, resting his head on folded hands. He didn't move a muscle.

"Doctor?" Clara asked now with a frown on her face. There was silent for a long while. Eleven noticed and turned around to, but said nothing. After almost a full minute, the man on the bench spoke.

"Bad Wolf," he said.

The older Doctor tensed visibly by the words, but Ten was still as stone. Clara tried to asks "What? Was does that-" but was cut off by her Doctor. "Clara." He sounded extremely tense and tired all at once. His voice, though soft, had a tone she had never heard before. She looked at him, but his gaze was fixed on himself on the bench. Clara backed away towards the wall.

"He said Bad Wolf Girl," Ten spoke again. His voice had grown stronger and he looked up at himself with furious eyes. "Did you even notice?" It came out almost a yell.

The standing Doctor's hearts grew weary and heavy. "Of course I noticed," he whispered. "Always."

"Well, you certainly didn't ask about it!" was the angry response. The young Doctor was standing now and one of the teacup had smashed to the floor, leaving porcelain and tea all over. Clara flinched. She knew not whether it was from the cup or the angry voice. Had this really been her Doctor? Was this yelling man really his past? He had seemed so nice.

Ten took off his glasses, put them away and sat back down with a heavy sigh. His hands ran over his face and into his messy hair. Beside him, his future self slowly sat down also. "If you're wondering whether you're going to forget about her," he spoke with the softest voice, "then there's no need to fear. I never forgot." The three last words came out in a way a mundane person can only fathom to understand. A sadness no one should ever understand.

A lifeless snort of laughter escaped the tenth Doctor's lips. "I didn't expect less." For he understood his own sadness.

"Where are you in your timeline right now?" The Doctor asked, cause he could not remember back so long.

"You don't remember?" the youngest replied.

A sad smile crept onto Eleven's lips. He stared at his shoes and felt a stinging in his eyes. "No… The time after her was - is - kind of a big bawl of grief, am I right?" He didn't need an answer, for despite he could not remember any events, the sorrow stood out quite clearly. Something told him that it always would. He had felt like a drunk addict whose doctor had forbidden him alcohol. It was what the man beside him was going through right now.

"I don't remember what I did last week," Ten suddenly realized. "But to answer my own future question, it is roughly three month since…" he coughed, "… since Dårlig Ulv Stranden. Since Rose."

Saying the name aloud had a visibly effect to an outsider like Clara. She could see how they both grew very silent. Not even breathing was heard. But then a soft _tip_ echoed. The sound a dripping faucet makes, when the drop hits something that is already wet. The tear had traveled from the eye, journeyed over the cheek to the jaw of the young Doctor. It had then dropped down in the spilled tea on the floor. "I haven't said that name in three months," he tried to explain, but the movement of his face only caused another tear to fall. "The last one I told was Donna. Do we remember Donna?"

Despite his own tears, the oldest of the two smiled. He hadn't thought about Donna for a long while and it was nice to go back all those years again. "Oh, yes. We remember. And I have a few more memories of her than you do."

Ten looked at himself curiously, not knowing what he _would_ know, but decided not to ask. "That sounds nice," was all he said. Then there was more silence.

Eleven was in conflict. Should he tell his past self about Rose's return and the human Doctor? He didn't remember any of these events which meant that Ten's - like the other Doctor's - mind would be wiped when he flew off in his TARDIS. So what was the point? Wouldn't it just be hurting himself? Talk about self-harm. He briefly opened his mouth, but closed it again. What was the point?

"Does it even get better?" Ten asked.

"Not really," Eleven replied.

"Thought so." And after a short break: "I should have told her. If there is one thing I regret, it's not telling her."

"I know. I'm you."

"And there's never been anyone…?"

"No. No one like her." It was true. The Doctor had met many extraordinary people after her. Donna, of course. Martha. Wilfred. Amy, Rory, Vastra, Jenny, Strax, Clara. River Song. But Donna, Martha, Amy, even River, could not fill the void that once was Rose. "To tell the truth, we can't even walk past a rosebush without getting all sentimental," he chuckled through the tears.

Young Doctor laughed genuinely and added: "We hate Ghostbusters," which made himself - that is his future self - laugh even more.

"Blonde jokes are horrible!"

"Union Jack is ugly!"

"Who the hell likes the beach?!"

By that, they were both yelling with laughter and tears. Happiness, comfort and a tremendous amount of pain all in one mad man, talking to himself. The laughter turned to chuckle, turned to silence. Eleven thought for a second about his human self with Rose in the parallel dimension, before saying: "I know you won't remember yourself saying this, because I don't, but… _things_ … will happen that will make it easier for you. You're never going to forget and the pain will always be there - sorry to disappoint - but you will know that she is cared for. Deeply." He had chosen his words carefully, however, he remembered how emotional he had been at the time. The reaction would be unpredictable.

True enough, Ten's head shot up. Was he going to see her again? Was the sad ending not goodbye? He longed for her, her touch, her comfort. "What's the point in telling yourself this?" It was all he could ask. "Like you said, we're not going to remember."

The older Doctor gave those big sad eyes, as Clara called them. "Maybe, just this once, there doesn't have to be a point."

"That's a pretty vague answer."

"We're a pretty vague man."

They smiled at this. A sad smile.

Suddenly, Ten slapped his hands on his knees and got up. "Well," he said and took a short breath, as to forget his still wet cheeks, "I better get going. I have a lot of 'grieving' to do, as you would call it." He looked at his future as he also rose from his seat. Ten walked around him to Clara, whom he had almost forgot. "If I'm going to turn into that mad man over there, I'm glad to know that you will be there for me, Clara. I look forward to meeting you." He gently toke her hand and pressed it softly to his lips.

Clara, though still bewildered and confused at what she had just watched, smiled back at him. "You will make a good first impression."

He smiled and released her hand, walking back to his TARDIS. Out the corner of his eye, he could see his older self following him. At the entrance to the ship, he paused and turned around. Gripping Eleven shoulders, he looked deep into his eyes. The didn't have the shape and color he was use to, but it was the same gaze that stared back at him whenever he looked in a mirror. "Never forget," he whispered.

The new Doctor placed a hand on his young shoulder. "Never," he whispered back.

The messy-haired Doctor pulled back, put the moment behind him and thought about something his older version had told him. With new enthusiasm he said: "Trenzalore. We need a new destination, because I don't want to go." Then he disappeared into the TARDIS and dematerialized before Eleven's and Clara's eyes.

"He always says that," The Doctor spoke softly to his companion.

Clara said nothing. She didn't know what to say. She was dying to understand what had just occurred between the Doctor and himself, but also frightful to make him angry or sad. Her shoulders jumped she noticed that he was staring at her. "Go ahead," he said. "Ask."

"Who we're you talking about?"

The Doctor looked down and back up again. He hadn't really talked to anyone about Rose. Not _really_ talked. Well, unless you count two minutes ago, when he was talking to himself. "I don't like to talk about her."

"You don't have to," Clara muttered.

The Doctor smiled down at his small friend, thankful that she didn't command for him to speak. He offered her and arm which she took, and let her back to the last TARDIS. "I will tell you this though," he opened the door and stepped inside, "There once was a girl named Rose Tyler. She was amazing in every way you can think of. Even some you cannot. One day, I was…"

The rest of this story, is only for Clara to hear.

* * *

 **Please reveiw! It would make me have all the feels!**


End file.
